


Easy

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Follow the North Star [21]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Do you think this counts as a double date?” Roman asks after a minute, and caught off guard, Harry can’t smother his laugh in time.“More like a threesome,” Harry blurts out.





	Easy

Harry has dealt with a whole lot of awkward situations in his life, enough that he suspects that maybe it’s sometimes him that makes shit awkward, but this? This moment is the kind of perfectly excruciating awkward he thought he left behind in high school. Apparently not.

Annie, when he finally called her and spilled pretty much everything, asked him exactly that, ‘how awkward is it right now?’, and while it wasn’t like, _not_ awkward, since him and Roman had that mano a mano brass knuckle free chat, it’s been kind of okay? Neither of them stuck too close to Evan in the room, Evan clung so close to Victor that if the North Stars thought he was dating anyone they’d probably guess _him_ , and proper boundaries have been had by all, at least during team time. It gave Harry some hope that the only excruciating part of the upcoming roadie would be the inevitable jerking off miserably in the bathroom because Evan’s paranoid about people walking in on them. Sharing a room is going to be torture, but that’s okay. Harry can endure.

Harry cannot endure the squirming insecurity of walking into the bar after a game and having no idea where the hell to sit, like the new kid in school hovering with a lunch tray and trying to catch people’s eyes, because by the time he gets there most of the guys who were going have settled in their spots, and in this case, the spot Evan’s settled into is right across from Roman. And not just across from him, but _alone_ with him, the two of them the only ones at a four-person table.

Harry has a feeling Evan would have drifted to Victor if he was here, just to avoid this exact situation, but while he was well enough for the game — barely — he’s fighting a cold that means everyone’s staying at least a few feet away from him at all times, and headed home straight after. Roman generally hangs with Fitzy during these things, and Harry doesn’t know if he would have done it again that night, but Fitzy headed home too, saying something about family visiting, so there isn’t going to be a buffer of someone else at the table to make it look anything other than Harry intruding. 

Even if Harry didn’t want to sit with Evan, and he does, Patty’s got two kids under five and doesn’t come out unless it’s a huge deal, tonight no exception, and honestly, Harry doesn’t want to sit with any of the other dudes, would either get stuck listening to them bitching about their kids or their wives or girlfriends, or their lack of wives or girlfriends. It’d be awkward sitting down with them anyway, because he just knows he’d get some look like ‘why the hell are you sitting with me, Chalmers?’. 

For not even close to the first time, Harry wishes Val was still here. He also wishes he’d just headed home to watch a movie with Beau, but he knows if he did that he’d just spend his time fighting his overactive imagination on what was going on — maybe Roman’s nailing Evan in the bathroom? Never mind the fact that Evan isn’t even comfortable with a locked hotel room. Harry’s imagination doesn’t give a shit about accuracy, just whatever will make him feel shitty and small.

Evan has his back to the door, so Harry can’t even do the meaningful eye contact thing like in the cafeteria, just keeps his head down so he won’t accidentally make eye contact with Roman and shuffles over, sliding into the seat beside Evan. If Roman doesn’t like it he can fucking deal, and if Evan doesn’t, well. He wouldn’t say anything, though even the thought makes Harry feel kind of miserable.

“Hey,” Evan says, shooting a smile his way, though Harry doesn’t know if he’s imagining the way it’s strained at the edges. “We were just talking about Val. You see his goal yesterday?”

Harry did, a highlight reel contender and the game-winner to boot, and that leads to possibly the only safe subject they could be on right now, and the one thing all three can agree on: hockey, and the fact that Val’s awesome, that he’s being wasted in the AHL, and that they hope management figures that out sooner rather than later.

They make it safely through a round by sticking to Val and the North Stars, easier because Harry’s keeping his eyes on Evan, trying not to look at Roman at all. He can’t exactly pretend he’s not there, considering he’s, you know, talking, and even keeping his eyes fixed on Evan, Roman’s still a bulky, heavy presence across the table, something Harry keeps catching out of the corner of his eye.

“I need to go to the washroom,” Evan says, after they’ve ordered another round, which might be something he had to announce if it was a booth, so Harry would get out of his way, but his way is clear. Like, physically, at least. Harry figures he probably thinks that the second he leaves Harry’s going to leap over the table and strangle Roman. Harry isn’t planning on it, though unfortunately ignoring someone’s entire existence is way harder and ruder when you’re the only two sitting at the table.

“Cool?” Harry says, because Evan hasn’t actually gotten up after his announcement, then, when Evan bites his lip, “Do you need permission? Permission officially granted.”

“I—” Evan says, nervous sounding, then, “Okay.”

He looks back at the table twice on his way to the bathroom, and the second time Harry gives him two thumbs up.

“He’s worried we’re going to kill each other,” Roman says once he’s disappeared, like Harry somehow didn’t realize that.

“I’m not actually stupid, Roman,” Harry says. “Anyway, I can’t kill you with Findlay two tables away.”

“But could otherwise?” Roman asks skeptically. Just because he’s built a mack truck doesn’t mean he’s invincible, but whatever. Harry isn’t actually homicidal, so it’s irrelevant.

Harry goes back to ignoring Roman’s existence, staring down fixedly at his empty glass like it contains the secrets of the universe.

“Do you think this counts as a double date?” Roman asks after a minute, and caught off guard, Harry can’t smother his laugh in time.

“More like a threesome,” Harry blurts out, then promptly wants to follow Evan to the bathroom so he can drown himself in the sink, especially when he looks up to see Roman’s eyebrows rise.

“I have zero control over my mouth at any time,” Harry says, staring back down at his glass, cheeks flaming hot. He probably looks like a tomato right now. Or like Evan, but if pretty in pink was replaced by, you know. Tomato. “Just for the record.”

“I’ve picked up on that,” Roman says, and even looking down Harry can see Roman shifting in his peripheral, leaning forward, gets as far as “Harry,” confidential sounding, before Evan sits down beside Harry with a decisive thump. He must’ve walked back double time, considering Harry never saw him coming. Roman pulls back, and Evan nudges Harry’s knee with his own, sending him a worried look, which absolutely confirms that Harry is currently a tomato.

“What were you guys talking about?” Evan asks, sounding like he’s trying for casual but also like he has failed utterly.

“Um,” Harry says.

“Harry’s lack of brain to mouth filter,” Roman says, which is probably the best possible answer, though Harry gives him a glare anyway.

“I think it’s refreshing,” Evan says, shooting an impossibly earnest look at Harry. “You always know where you stand with him.”

Leave it to Evan to somehow spin Harry’s lack of impulse control as a positive. Harry saw him complimenting Fitzy on laying a hard check on him in scrimmage once and wondered if he went around saying that to opponents too, all, ‘that was a good one, you did a great job winding me!’ At the time it was a thought with an internal scoff, an eye roll, but Harry finds the idea of it pretty endearing now. Also very possible.

“Like six inches above me,” Harry says. “That’s where you stand.”

“Sorry,” Evan says.

Harry stares at him. “Did you just apologize for being tall?” he asks, then finally manages to look at Roman because he needs to share his incredulity. Roman’s mouth is tipped up, but meeting his eyes was a mistake, because Harry can’t tell if he’s amused by Evan or if he’s still laughing at the shit that comes out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop it. _More like a threesome_. What the fuck, Harry’s mouth. 

He puts all his focus on Evan, but Roman’s still looking at him, he can feel it like a physical presence. Harry can’t help wondering what he was going to say before Evan came back. _I’ll take you up on that?_

What the _fuck_ , Harry’s brain. You’re banned.

It’s kind of tense after that. Roman quits looking at him, or at least if he is it isn’t the heavy, itchy kind of look, and Evan starts talking about a documentary him and Victor watched on the Summit Series at a clip that makes Harry think he’s also aware it’s tense and is trying to barrel right through it. It’s definitely not working, and not just because a tournament almost forty years before Harry was born is officially the hard limit of Harry’s interest in hockey. He didn’t think there was one, but he’s found it.

Roman must be just as bored, or tense, or whatever, Harry doesn’t know, because after the second round he says, “Should get back to Zuza.” Evan protests, but it sounds halfhearted. Maybe Harry’s just hearing what he wants to hear. 

“What the hell’s a Zuza?” Harry asks, after Roman’s headed out with an appropriately bro hug with Evan that Harry still felt uncomfortable watching and a nod in Harry’s direction.

“His puppy,” Evan says. “It means Graceful Lily in Czech.”

“Who names their dog ‘graceful lily’?” Harry asks.

“Beau is French for handsome,” Evan points out.

“Okay, but he _is_ handsome,” Harry says, and when Evan just smiles, “Tell me my dog is handsome, Evan.”

“Your dog is handsome,” Evan says very solemnly, minus the little quirk of his mouth as he says it.

“You want another?” Harry asks, a little worried that Evan will bow out because sticking around shows like, favoritism or whatever. Harry doesn’t really know how this works. Is it like a timeshare? Does Evan count the hours? After a week long road trip will he be like, ‘gotta move into Roman’s for a week to make things fair, see you when your times are balanced’? And how big a hypocrite does Harry sound, saying a few days ago that they shouldn’t spend time together until they head out on the road, then barging in on him and Roman and asking him for more?

“One more,” Evan says. That’s what Harry gets, he guesses. One more.

Guys are starting to filter out, only one other group left by the time they’ve gotten their last round, and that group halfway across the bar, but Evan’s very quiet when he says, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Harry looks down at his beer, then around.

“I mean after,” Evan says, 

“Nah,” Harry says. “You want to come over?”

“If you want me to,” Evan says.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Harry says, thankfully instead of an even more true ‘I always want you to’.

There’s like, a faint hesitance when Evan gets in the door, after he gives Beau some love, all fidgety, saying, “Want to watch a movie or something?” like it’s not already around the time they would be going to bed. 

“Or we could go to my room,” Harry says. “Whichever. You know, early morning.”

“Right,” Evan says, very agreeable, and even more agreeable when Harry’s got him on his back, stripped to his skin. Harry sits back on his heels and surveys the playing field.

“What are you doing?” Evan asks.

“Deciding where I’m kissing you first,” Harry says. “Suggestions?”

“Wherever you want,” Evan says, a little hesitant, then, after Harry decides that’s just asking for him to spend a good minute kissing his forearm, exasperatedly, “Harry.”

“I take suggestions,” Harry says helpfully.

“My neck?” Evan says, more of a question than a proper suggestion, but Harry will allow it. Not a bad place to start.

“Are you planning on kissing _everywhere_?” Evan asks, when Harry makes his leisurely way to his shoulder, then his collarbone.

“Maybe,” Harry says. “You mind?”

“I—” Evan says, then, “No.”

“Cool,” Harry says, and gets right back to it.

There’s a part of Harry wants to do more than explore, wants to leave a mark for Roman to find, sucking deep or biting in, somewhere no one else would notice. He knows that part of him is being stupid and jealous, and he also knows that if that got noticed in the locker room Evan would want to curl into a ball and hide forever. He may not be able to control what comes out of his mouth, but he can control what it does, keeps the kisses gentle, almost chaste. The only time his teeth come out is against Evan’s nipples, small and pink and so, so sensitive, enough that even the hint of a scrape of teeth gets Evan shaking, a gentle suck pulls noises out of him Harry hadn’t heard before, and he could honestly be content just doing that for _ages_ , learning from his body what he likes because asking for those things is not Evan’s strength. 

He slides down once the sounds Evan makes sound more oversensitive than anything else, making himself a very stern mental note that he better damn well be aware that ‘stop’ or ‘too much’ may also not easy things for Evan to say. 

“You good?” Harry asks against his hip. The urge to bite is gone, and he presses his lips against the stark jut of bone. Evan doesn’t have much fat anywhere, all lean muscle, but he’s got enough of that to make these spots rare, hips, elbows, ankles, where Harry can see how skinny he’d been before, can remember it.

“Good,” Evan says, hand coming down to pet his hair. 

“Not too much?” Harry asks.

No answer, and when Harry looks up sharply, Evan looks embarrassed. “I shook my head,” Evan says. “Sorry.”

“You are so cute,” Harry says. “Can I blow you?”

Evan’s nod is so vigorous that Harry feels like maybe in this case he doesn’t have to ask him to use his words.

Evan’s mostly boneless after after he’s come down Harry’s throat, something Harry’s starting to recognize, but he’s totally cool with it when Harry asks if he can fuck his thighs, staring at that long plane of his back, that masterpiece of an ass (assterpiece, Harry thinks, which interrupts things when he has to take a laugh break, Evan frowning back at him until Harry explains, then the both of them giggling like schoolkids). He can’t keep the other thoughts from creeping in, though, _has he does this?_ , _has he fucked you?_ , things he has no fucking right to ask.

Evan’s properly drowsy by the time Harry comes back from the bathroom with a warm cloth, doesn’t even try to take the cloth himself when Harry starts to wipe his thighs off, which feels somehow more intimate than anything else they’ve done, a bigger step, Evan spreading his legs to let Harry wipe the come off his thighs. Harry presses a kiss just above the back of his knee, where the skin’s soft and fragile, Evan squirming a little when Harry brushes the pads of his fingers over it. “Quit it,” he mumbles, and Harry gets up to discard the cloth, scowling when Beau gives him a judgmental look from his bed in the hall.

“It’s my apartment, I can walk around naked if I want,” Harry tells him. “ _You_ walk around naked all the time.”

Beau shifts, collar jingling. “Collars don’t count, smartass,” Harry says.

“You talk to your dog?” Evan asks when Harry comes back into his room.

Harry would lie, but like. He’s totally been caught. “He’s a good listener,” Harry says. He is, too. He’s learned all sorts of tricks, and even does them without treats, though he always looks a little betrayed, so Harry keeps him in steady treat supply.

“What’d he say?” Evan says through a yawn.

“He didn’t say anything, he’s a _dog_ ,” Harry says, and Evan laughs softly.

“You want to stay the night?” Harry asks, crawling back into bed.

“If you don’t—” Evan starts.

“Evan,” Harry says exasperatedly. “Remember how you said earlier you liked how you knew where you stood with me? If it wasn’t cool with me, I wouldn’t offer, okay?”

“Okay,” Evan says, then, “Thanks.” He scoots closer then, this slow little wriggle like Harry won’t notice if he only moves half an inch at the time. Harry lets him close the distance from a foot to about four inches before he runs out of patience and hauls him in the rest of the way.

“I can’t believe you think you can stealth cuddle when you’re the size of a mountain,” Harry says, tucking his face in the column of Evan’s throat. “Honestly, just ask for what you want.”

“It’s hard to,” Evan says, so softly that if Harry wasn’t so close he could feel it vibrate through him, he would have missed it. 

“I know,” Harry says, pulling back to look him in the eye. “But like, I’m easy, okay, and cuddles are awesome, so I’m pretty much never going to say no, but if you’re worried about it, ask. I’m not going to give you shit.”

“Can we cuddle?” Evan asks him.

“What do you think we’re doing, babe?” Harry asks.

“Like, sideways?” Evan asks. “Your back to me, I mean?”

“You think you get automatic big spoon rights just because you’re a giant?” Harry asks, and when Evan looks a little stricken, “Jesus, yes, you can be the big spoon, come here.”

It’s comfortable, Evan tucked up behind him, arm slung over his hip to keep him in place. Not that Harry wants to move, like, ever: the only time he has was to shut off the bedside lamp, and Evan made the most pathetically confused noise, one Harry found himself making soothing noises at, like he does with Beau when he’s whining.

“Harry?” Evan says, soft and sleepy sounding, when Harry’s starting to drift. 

“Hm?” Harry asks.

“It’s really easy with you,” Evan says. “So. Thanks.”

“S’easy with you too,” Harry mumbles, a little surprised by how true that is, considering.


End file.
